Beautiful Disaster

Come Look Upon My Flowers (Sonnet)

Come look upon my flowers
And breathe in their fresh scent
In the garden, we'll spend hours
And they'll be hours ill-spent

As we  gawk about their beauty
And talk of other things
They'll faithfully fulfill their duty
A place for the bee to rest its wings

But when the winter frost
Begins sweeping through the land
All that beauty is lost
And the flowers are no longer grand

And when adversity plagues your life
Beauty is a weak defender against strife




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